Post navigation

Also WordPress has just wished me a happy anniversary. This would be more acheivement-y if I’d written more than 12 blog posts in a whole year and committed to the darn thing for longer than a month at a time.

Ah well. Keep ploughing on. And, may I add, it is a battle these days: I got drunk at the weekend and spilled Malibu all over my laptop. Though I removed the keys and cleaned it, I think I did it wrong. It’s really hard to push the keys down now. Typing is literally a lot of effort. Like, my fingers are kinda tired right now.

Anyway. I was off work today cos I felt TOO ILL. Some sorta stomach bug… it wasn’t pleasant. Sitting here on the sofa all day was nice though. I watched ‘This Is The End’ with James Franco (in that he was in it, not that he was here, alas. I was gonna have a Franco Marathon but my attention span is not long enough. Plus ‘Your Highness’ was stupid).

I’ve lost the thread now. I’m just really envious of James Franco – he’s SO BUSY. He acts, directs, does art, writes books, goes to college, TEACHES at college.

I struggle to get out of bed in the mornings and he’s out there achieving all this STUFF. Dammit Franco. And he’s off his head on pot most of the time* – how does he still manage to achieve?

He also seems really nice. I mean, I don’t know him, but he comes across as a nice guy in interviews and stuff. I no longer know if I want to BE him or DO him, I’ve become confused.

NO idea what my point was here. Something about JF. (Also he once made a movie of my FAVOURITE King Arthur legend. AND another movie about my FAVOURITE actor.)

I saw his film ‘Flyboys’, about pilots in the war, with a friend and when we came out she asked ‘So. Which ones were the planes?’ If you can’t tell the difference between James Franco and a plan then, dude, you got a problem.

Gonna stop writing now. Don’t usually fangirl all over the internet, I’ve disturbed myself. Whether to click ‘post’ or ‘delete’ is now the only question.

*Is that libel? If it is, I just wanna say that that’s a GUESS and a JOKE. I have no idea if he does pot. Except that he totally looks like he does. But maybe that’s just his face. And his voice. Whatever.

1. Today I ate an entire bag of microwave popcorn. Not even in the evening with a film or a friend. Just alone, mid-afternoon. I’d been eyeing it up in my cupboard for days, resisting it, but then I thought ‘eh, I’m gonna eat it eventually. Why wait?’

2. Last week I went to Nando’s twice. I justify this by deciding that since one meal happened randomly after a night out, it was still ok to go the second time as I’d actually planned that before the first trip. Also my boyfriend was there both times too so it wasn’t just me. He didn’t have one stamp left on his loyalty card and decide to get it filled by ordering ALL THE SIDE DISHES and having the main for free there and then though. I may have done that.

3. I so very couldn’t be bothered to unpack after my holiday that I left the jewellery I’d taken in its travel bag and just used it from there. When I’d worn it I still didn’t put it away; I put it back in the travel bag. It got to a point where I’d taken off some jewellery I hadn’t even taken on holiday with me and I still just put it in the travel bag. Eventually everything I own will be in that bag.

4. Also I didn’t bother to unpack anything for ages after I got back because I kinda just thought ‘hey I’m moving house soon, part of my crap is ready packed!’ Then I realised that was a month away and my mum wanted the suitcase back. It’s all unpacked now.

5. Instead of working on the articles I’m doing for a website I write for, when I got home this afternoon I read all of Snopes. I now know everything that didn’t happen ever.

6.I’m awful with remembering who the hell people are. I’m mostly bad with faces. I once didn’t recognise a teacher I’d had for a year JUST because he’d put a hat on. He came down a corridor smiling and waved and I was just confused.

7. I’m also bad with names. Recently I was chatting with a really nice girl I’d met a few times and worked on a one-day film shoot with. The subject of how awkward it was when you couldn’t remember someone’s name and they knew yours and it was too late to ask came up. After this I went ‘Oh do you know my friend G? I’ll introduce you’, walked her over there and FORGOT HER NAME. ‘This is G…. errrrrr’. Complete blank. In the end I just went ‘Oh B is calling me, excuse me!’ and ran away. Which may have been a bit rude but I was panicking like hell (also they’d already started talking to each other so it was kiiiiind of ok-ish).

Another lengthy tale of my awkward life, handily divided into two parts. Part One is available here.

Eventually it was time for the film. I’d promised an Orange Wednesdays voucher and failed to deliver (friend never got back to me with it!); he tried to contact a friend last minute to get one but that didn’t appear either. Discussion of this failure took up far more of the conversation than I would have liked.
Thus when he tried to insist upon paying for our tickets I outright refused. I felt bad enough as it was. Not to mention the fact that I thought he had a car and it would be no problem for him to get there: turned out he had to take a taxi straight from work. All the way across town. Expensive. Oops. And of course I had to ask where he lived: and of course it turned out to be 4 streets down the road from me. I couldn’t not offer him a lift home.

We chatted while the adverts were on. An interview was played in which a man had a thumb war with an actor, whereupon B turned to me and declared that he had never been beaten in a thumb war. This did make me laugh; he was clearly messing about but then he insisted on challenging me. He wasn’t lying when he said he was good: I nearly lost that thumb then. Guess that would have brought the date to a swift close.
He heard it click as it bent backward and apologised, holding out his hand as though ready to take my hand and ‘inspect for damage’. Far be it from me to judge such tricks, as we know I am not above that shizzle, but I just wasn’t into it. I laughed it off (I was going to stick the good old adjective ‘awkwardly’ in there but really? I think we can just take that as a standing situational thing. It was all awkward).

The film itself was fine. Part of a series, the rest of which I’d never seen, so I was rather confused throughout but whatever. It was alright. And the lead actor was kind of cute.

As we walked down the steps out of the screening room B ended up ahead of me. My glance happened to fall on the back of his neck: two small silver bars poked out of his neck. Like tiny, tiny Frankenstein’s monster bolts. It was a weirdly deep-looking piercing as well. Anyway, regardless of depth, I’m not a fan of piercings in men (personally I don’t like any piercings but that is due to my combined needles and holes phobias). Not important but still.

I drove him home. He didn’t actually show me where his house or even his actual street were: he just said the layby under the bridge was fine. So ok, I pulled over. I was extremely worried that this would be the moment he went for a kiss. He began to lean over… for a hug. Relieved, I returned the hug and promptly SMACKED HIM IN THE FACE with my upper arm. Hastily I began to withdraw and apologise: mid-apology I once again SMACKED HIM IN THE FACE, this time with my hand. He just got out then.

I drove home ever so fast and hunted out my housemate and her boyfriend. Like surrogate parents they listened to every detail, offered me about 20 pieces of conflicting advice (while B texted me about the good time he’d had) and then we went to the drive through for McFlurries. So that was good.

It’s another random and long ongoing tale! Some may say I should finish one before I start another but yo, this is how I roll! Mainly cos I couldn’t be bothered to write the other one right now.

I originally wrote this in the before time – the date in question happened last year – but, as I had started telling this saga here before (and cos I read this and thought it was alright) I reckoned I might as well publish it. I want to state: I mean no offence to my datee here. Awkwardness was due to me. He was a nice guy who I just ultimately wasn’t interested in in that way.

Well I did it. I went on a date. A rather awkward date but that was to be expected. And hey, it wasn’t terrible.

Our original plan had been to meet at the cinema just before the film, however, B texted and asked whether I could meet him for a drink first. I really wasn’t sure about this – I’d thought that he might suggest going for a drink after but before? According to my friends and family: before is better. Gets it over and done with, it’s got a clear time limit and then at the end you can just go. I hadn’t thought of any of these things but, on reflection, I agreed.

And so we met 45 minutes before the film. I know that’s not long but hey; one drink (cos how early can I eat dinner, huh?) I’d driven there and as I opened my car door my phone bleeped: a text from him. He was already there. Fighting the sudden urge to leap in my car and keep driving until there was no more Britain to drive on, I headed toward the cinema. There he was. He looked… strangely red around the eyes. Like he’d been crying. I don’t know why – I wasn’t that late (two minutes tops).

He hugged me. Previous statements have declared how I feel about physical contact so I need say no more on that front.

He’d never been to that area before and so I suggested a bar. He offered to buy drinks – a coke for me, a pint for him. Pleasant but stilted conversation ensued. As we moved to sit at a table he decided to do a ‘cheers’-clink move with his glass. Sadly I had just leaned down to sip through my straw, half way through that sip I realised why he was shoving his glass at me and quickly tapped mine on his. I didn’t quite twig that some coke had just entered my mouth, the movement whipped the straw out of my mouth and the coke followed. I spluttered and dribbled awkwardly.

As I listened to him speak I began to feel awful. He told me about his life – his family back down south and his upcoming visit for his nephew’s birthday. There was a whole life there with just one gap: a gap for a girlfriend to slot into. I felt like I could see a path I would never take, it would never be me in that gap – it was all there before me but I knew, even then, that I just wasn’t interested in dating him.And no, it probably was no great loss to him, I’m sure he had no trouble finding dates. But it was the strangest sensation of seeing little snippets of a whole life laid out like a patchwork quilt with a square missing. I’m sure it’s just my overactive imagination but in that moment I really felt like I’d Seen Something. I don’t know. Just my own guilt talking really.

Part two will follow shortly (this got long. Like, seriously long. But I swear it’ll just be two parts).

Here are some very important facts which I thought it was, to be honest, my absolute duty to share with the internet. You may know these facts, you may have your own similar ones or you may feel totally enlightened by this list. It’s anyone guess really.

1. When it is your period (guess this is a fact for girls only. If you are having a period as guy: something is very wrong. Seriously. Stop reading this and seek medical attention), when it is your period it is ok to eat ALL THE CHOCOLATE IN THE WORLD. It may be a cliche but dammit it’s a true one. In fact, it’s ok to eat all the foods. Really, all of them. Snacks are your friend in this turbulent time.

2. If you buy Jack Daniels sauce and it reveals itself to be a totally different product to the Jack Daniels sauce you get at Harvester: do NOT add actual Jack Daniels to it in the hope that ‘all it was missing was a bit of an alcohol kick’. This is incorrect and will lead to nothing but sadness and pain (like, seriously, it’s a kind of burning sensation in your throat).

3. It’s fine to instead just drink some Jack Daniels. (Now I’m wondering if if I mention it enough they’ll give me some for free. I should just start listing alcohols. There’s a thrilling blog post.)

4. Kids’ cereal is the best cereal. It’s a simple fact. Also, if you try to be grown-up for once and buy adult food such as Maltie Wheaties (not their real name) all you’ll really achieve is knowing what eating potato sacks is like.

5. Cheese is the best food.

6. (I just realised these are pretty much all about food. Fact 6 should probably be ‘apparently I’m obsessed with food’. But it isn’t) You should always be wary about men with a surname that is really just a first name. Like Pete John. Or Jim Andrew. Whatever. Just be careful, it’s proved true many a time – I’m open to being proved wrong about this but, you know, so far I haven’t been.

7. Apparently it still totally counts as camping when there’s electrical plugs and hair straighteners. I am doubtful.

8. It’s really hard to keep coming up with facts even though the world is FULL of facts. This may be due to the painkillers. Mind you, they may have written this entire post.

An occasional series where I tell the tale of my first real boyfriend. Parts one, two and three are available on the links if you want to start from the start!

To be honest… now I have a new boyfriend I felt a bit weird about telling this any more. I didn’t want to seem like I was longing for the past. But it’s part of my life. It happened and it was good and then one day it stopped happening and ultimately that was good too. If I tell the tale with fondness now, it is because, at the time, it was special.

So. I left Part 3 at the point where we had met, carried a bench and smiled at each other. I thought that was it. It was so busy and I wasn’t sure what the next part of the evening would entail: turned out to be a trip to the props store.

For an amateur theatre, their props store was pretty stunning. Hidden, at the end of a row of shops, behind a battered, green wooden door on a busy city street was a similarly battered hallway. Hatstands, picture frames and other detritus littered the cramped space. Beyond that: a steep flight of stairs as creaky as a cliched haunted house.

Up those stairs was where the awesome began. The landing opened out into a room which took up that entire level of the building. The room was stuffed with any and all props that could ever be imagined: there were whole sections for lamps, for washing machines, for outdoors, fantasy sets, sci-fi sets, historical sets. And that wasn’t all. This vast, brimful space was repeated – not just on the next floor, but on the floor after that too. Anything anyone could have hoped to feature in a play was in that room (for example, I later went there with a play set in a hairdresser in mind: within seconds I had been shown to the appropriate section and given a set of special hairdresser chairs, blow driers and a sink).

As newcomers, our minds were blown. That dusty treasure trove could have entertained me for hours. We wandered around, it was like a museum to the possibilities of theatre – I swear I got several story ideas just from the random items I saw there.

Not everyone was as enthralled as I: but the slim, nice man was. More often that not he would end up next me as we lingered by whatever had grabbed our attention. I made some exclamatory comment when I saw a stack of record players and he smiled. I could sense something. Some connection. I wanted to talk to him, I thought he wanted to talk to me. The only thing putting me off was his age.

He was clearly older than me. Quite a bit older. There was no way, I told myself, that he would be interested. He’s an actual man, not some boy from my old school. No chance. And so I continued to linger near him. The most passive approach to picking up men ever. I maneuvered myself next to him whenever possible, hoping he would break the ice. When our ‘tour guide’ paused to finish up his talk as we waited to leave I stood close. So close that I brushed against him. At the time it wasn’t creepy. Or maybe it was. I was young and painfully awkward.

And then, at last, the silence was shattered. “Wow that was really interesting” I remarked as we left the building. “Yes,” he replied, “I loved it”. Silence again. Argh!

“I have to say…” he continued, “Your t shirt is excellent. I love David Bowie.”

YES! THANK YOU BOWIE YOU WONDERFUL MAN. I knew I had to have that t shirt the moment I saw it. I just didn’t, at the time, know why.

Most of my friends seem to be in relationships these days. Not that strange; I am in one myself.

Not so very long ago this would have been truly unbelievable to any one of us – high school was as dry as a desert in terms of viable boyfriends and our tendency to spend lunch in our own HQ meant that we were seen, I suspect, as something of a lesbian coven (only a problem when trying to get boys!).

One by one we overcame the many obstacles that shy teenage girls face and began to date people! Some got boyfriends at uni, some through mutual friends – my first boyfriend came from a theatre group that I joined (a tale I will finish someday).

Things had changed (very much for the better)! And then, just recently, things seem to have changed again.

People are getting serious. People are moving in with each other. People are becoming a single unit when I know there are two of them really! I don’t feel like this is something I understand – the need to so seriously assert ‘We Are A Couple’. Obviously there’s nothing wrong with being serious or living together. It’s just the way they seem to go ‘Oh we’re adults now, yes, we are a serious couple of adults and we do all the same things!’

I’m sure their point of view of it makes sense. And I know I’ve A. Only been with my boyfriend 6 months when they’ve all been together for several years and B. Lived with my (previous) boyfriend before so have no desire to rush into that again.

Maybe I’m just different too? I like to be coupley but in my own way. And I like independence. And while I may sometimes secretly wish I could boss my boyfriend around the way I see my friends do, I know that that is not really what I want or need in a man. I think I need someone who knows his own mind and will not be pushed around. That’s not always the easiest route though, I guess.

Anyway. It’s late and I’m rambling. I’ve just realised it’s the weekend so I can stay up late but I think I’ll just fall asleep. WHAT HAVE I BECOME? (aaaand I didn’t publish this til Monday. But I was right. I did just fall asleep.)